


pretty baby.

by katarama



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Consensual Kink, Cunnilingus, F/F, Fluff, Mommy Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 15:22:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6013942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarama/pseuds/katarama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few years ago, when she was a sophomore and intensely self-regulating, Lydia would probably be embarrassed by how she looks right now.  She isn’t up to her usual standards of fashion.  Her hair is down, falling into its natural curves, and she’s wearing soft clothes, a t-shirt and old, cotton shorts.  The only jewelry she’s wearing is a bracelet, a small one made of multicolored beads that she only just fastened there herself.  She should probably feel silly or vulnerable, bare-faced aside from a little lipstick and comfortable, in warm, fuzzy socks, but it actually feels natural, especially when Malia’s sitting next to her with a flower clip holding up her grown-out bangs, all of her clothes soft and unmatching, in pastel colors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pretty baby.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rjosettes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rjosettes/gifts).



Lydia has developed an astute sense of fashion over the years, and aside for her weakness for clothes with dog prints, she’s proud of her ability to stay ahead of the curve when it comes to clothing and her sense of style.  She always has the cutest skirts and the cutest accessories and the cutest, towering high heels that the average school probably would not let her get away with wearing with mini-skirts (but really, it’s Beacon Hills, and most people don’t survive the year, anyway, with all the attacks they have, so the school figures they can let them wear what they want).

A few years ago, when she was a sophomore and intensely self-regulating, she’d probably be embarrassed by how she looks right now.  She isn’t up to her usual standards of fashion.  Her hair is down, falling into its natural curves, and she’s wearing soft clothes, a t-shirt and old, cotton shorts.  The only jewelry she’s wearing is a bracelet, a small one made of multicolored beads that she only just fastened there herself.  She should probably feel silly or vulnerable, bare-faced aside from a little lipstick and comfortable, in warm, fuzzy socks, but it actually feels natural, especially when Malia’s sitting next to her with a flower clip holding up her grown-out bangs, all of her clothes soft and unmatching, in pastel colors.

They’re making bead bracelets, because the two of them agreed Malia should have one for little days.  Malia insisted that Lydia make one for herself, as well, and Lydia picked out the colors and finished it quickly and efficiently.  She knew Malia would need more help.  Malia sometimes gets a little bit clumsy with her hands when she’s little, like her headspace doesn’t quite know what to do with the big hands her body has, and the beads fall to the table and the floor almost as much as they slide down onto the yarn to settle above the knot at the end.

The beads are big and multicolored, and Lydia’s been trying to steer Malia towards some sort of pattern, but Malia’s having none of it.  It’s pure luck that Lydia catches Malia before she strings half the letter beads with her name spelled out, M-A-L-I-A, on upside down.

“You’re doing it _wrong_ , Mommy,” Malia tries to tell her, her face scrunched up out of pure stubbornness.  She puts the beads back on the way she had them.  Lydia purses her lips, but doesn’t say anything.  Scott has always been more patient with Malia when she’s being stubborn, which Lydia figures comes from years of dealing with Stiles.  Lydia’s still learning, almost as much as Malia is.  

“You’re upside down, sweetheart,” Lydia points out, moving the beads straight so Malia can see the way the letters don’t line up.  “I was just fixing it for you.”

“I liked it upside down,” Malia insists, and Lydia lets it go.  She kisses Malia on the cheek.

“If that’s what you want, baby.”

“It is, Mommy,” Malia says, holding up the bracelet to show it off.  It’s an uneven hodgepodge of color, but that’s honestly what Lydia would expect from her little one.

Lydia supposes that this is another thing she should feel weird about.  Her 21-year-old girlfriend, only a little less than a year younger than her, calling her Mommy.  At first, Lydia got hung up in her head overanalyzing it, itching to read into the literature on the psychology of what it’s something that makes Malia relaxed and content.  But Lydia doesn’t put all that much stock in most psychological studies, anyway, and to some extent she doesn’t need to pull and tug at it.  Questioning it too much would lead to her questioning herself and the way little scenes are just as good for Lydia as they are for Malia.  Questioning why being called Mommy and why spending time coloring in coloring books and watching cartoons and snuggling up with Malia’s stuffed wolf and having bath time together with Scott honestly feels like a weight off Lydia’s shoulders, when it’s adding on more responsibility, instead of less.

Malia hands over the bracelet, and Lydia ties it on for her, Malia holding it up to show off how it looks on her wrist.

“Very pretty, baby,” Lydia says, and Malia pouts her mouth for a kiss.  Lydia presses a quick one against her lips, tasting the cherry lip balm Malia always likes to slather on when Lydia doesn’t let her try to put on lipstick when she’s little.  

“More kisses,” Malia demands, and Lydia presses a nice, big kiss on Malia’s cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark.

“You’re doing it wrong again,” Malia tells her, and Lydia raises an eyebrow, waiting for Malia to explain.  It takes Malia a second to collect herself, and Lydia already knows what that means before Malia even opens her mouth.  

“I don’t want cheek kisses,” Malia pouts.  “I want you to kiss my button.”

“I don’t know that you really want me to kiss your button,” Lydia says, her voice measured.  She doesn’t want the confused and upset expression on Malia’s face to linger, but she wants to make her point.  “Good girls say please when they want special kisses, and you want to be Mommy’s good girl, don’t you?.”

Malia smiles her softest, sweetest smile up at Lydia, because she’s incorrigible and learned entirely too well from Scott that big eyes and a pretty smile get her what she wants.  Lydia can’t believe this is who she’s dating.  “Please, Mommy,” she asks sweetly.  “Please can I get special kisses today?”

Since Malia did as she was asked, it’s not much of a hardship for Lydia to say yes.  Lydia makes Malia put the beads away, because Lydia is working on reinforcing the ‘cleaning up after playing’ rule after Kira tripped and almost stepped on Legos Scott and Malia left out.  Malia is good, though, and Lydia helps her put the last of them away so they can head back to the bedroom.

* * *

 

Malia has a separate set of clothes for days when she’s smaller, soft, rainbow knee socks she stole from Kira and comfortable cotton panties in soft shades of green and blue and pink and purple.  Lydia always helps Malia with her socks and her buttons, but the rule is that Malia does the rest of it herself.  Today, though, is easy.  Malia’s wearing a skirt, soft and baby blue, one that twirls when she spins in circles, and Malia slides it and her underwear down her long legs easily and steps out of it.  Lydia takes off her lipstick while Malia’s getting ready, because this lipstick doesn’t last, and she doesn’t want to smear Malia’s cunt red.

“Can you sit on the bed for me, baby?” Lydia asks, and Malia plops down unceremoniously, impatient and buzzing with excitement all at the same time.  Special kisses are Malia’s favorite, and she doesn’t get them all the time when she’s little.

“Hurry _up_ ,” Malia huffs, and Lydia takes just a little longer, because being demanding doesn’t get little ones what they want any faster.  She leans in, though, and presses her lips to Malia’s clit, just a quick, teasing kiss.  Malia’s already wet; Lydia bets that her pretty star panties will need to be thrown in the laundry, but Malia’s still not quite past the point of sensitivity to direct stimulation, squirming a little against Lydia’s mouth.

So Lydia heads down, instead, getting her mouth where Malia’s wettest, running her tongue flat against Malia’s hole and dragging slowly.  She lingers, for a while, licking broad, even strokes, getting her mouth on Malia’s lips and brushing the edge of her tongue around where Malia opens up for her.  

Malia pushes, trying to shove as much of her cunt against Lydia’s soft lips and rough tongue as she can, and Lydia lets her, for a while, lets Malia rub and take what she wants.  Malia’s thighs shake around Lydia’s head, squeezing in tight until Lydia has to hold them still herself.  Lydia’s face is smeared with slick, Malia’s trimmed hair tickling her face, the scent of Malia’s arousal so strong Lydia knows she doesn’t have to wait much longer.  She never has to wait very long, not when Malia’s like this.  Her baby girl is always easily worked up.

“Please, Mommy,” Malia begs, and that’s what Lydia was really waiting for.  

“You want me to make you slippy?” Lydia asks, pulling away, teasing Malia’s clit with a finger while she waits.  

Malia shivers, her toes squeezing up and her calves clenching.  “I wanna be slippy so bad,” she says.  “Please.”  Lydia places a sloppy kiss on Malia’s hip before she dives in one last time.

Lydia finally pulls out the stops, filling Malia with a finger and sucking around Malia’s clit.  Lydia barely even has to crook her finger in the spot that makes Malia melt inside before Malia’s whole body goes taut, shakes around Lydia and squirts.  Lydia sucks her through until Malia’s whispering, “Mommy,” and tugging at her hair.

“You’re all messy, too,” Malia says, grinning when she finally catches a glimpse of Lydia’s face, and Lydia presses come kisses all over Malia’s cheeks, letting her grin and giggle, comedumb and happy.  They both need to clean up, and Lydia’s still wet, but they can take care of that later, when Malia’s more herself and when Scott’s home to help them both out.  That’s less of a concern for Lydia at the moment, though.  She gets plenty of orgasms from Malia when she’s bigger.

“Was I your good girl?” Malia asks eagerly, and the smile Lydia gives her comes easy.

“You were my very good girl.”

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr [here](sleepy-skittles.tumblr.com).


End file.
